


EAD Offerings 2018

by NimueOfTheNorth



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, James Bond (Craig movies), NCIS, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Creature Inheritance, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reid leaves the team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:26:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimueOfTheNorth/pseuds/NimueOfTheNorth
Summary: These are my offerings for this year's EAD. Some are short, some are long. Some are beginnings, some are random scenes from the middle. All of them I'd like to get back to sooner or later.Nothing is betaed.





	1. Yenta

“Damn, you’re fast! I hope you’re training for something or you’re making us all look kinda lame.”

Hotch turned around surprised by the female voice behind him. The brunette was attractive and her running outfit spoke of her knowing it. She tried putting a lot of charm into her smile, even while bending over completely out of breath.

“Excuse me?” There was something in her demeanour that got his guard up. And it wasn’t just his professional paranoia.

“I’ve been seeing you around the park, running and biking. We seem to have a similar schedule and, well, venturing a guess I just figured that if we were both training for a triathlon, maybe we could train together, help each other out.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes at her unconvincing act of innocence. “Ma’am, the fact that you are not just looking for a training partner makes your approach highly inappropriate. I have to ask you not to talk to me again.”

“What do you mean? Of course, I’m looking for a training partner, what else would I be looking for?” Nervousness was shining through her mask of casual confidence.

But Hotch wasn’t having any of it. The game she was playing made him very uncomfortable. “I profile serial killers for a living. I can see through deceptions way more sophisticated than yours. You aren’t all that subtle and your pursuit is offensive, bordering on harassment. I can only advice you to be very careful with your behaviour. Good day, ma’am.”

He got into his car and drove off, more shaken than he would have expected.

This wasn’t how their society worked. You didn’t just pick a random stranger you thought you might like, walk up to them, and see where things might lead.

Of course, there were all sorts of opportunities to meet for people who didn’t want to use the Yenta-database. But it was an unspoken agreement that that happened among like-minded people and not randomly on the street.

Hotch didn’t have an issue with people preferring other ways to find a suitable partner but personally, he liked the traditions, trusted them, and felt comfortable within their framework. That someone would approach him like this, completely ignoring any boundaries, made him feel disrespected in a way he wasn’t at all used to.


	2. Across An Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily's cover is supported by an unlikely source and Aaron finds himself surprisingly fond of that person.

Aaron clicked the icon for the video chat program he’d been provided on a thumb drive. The program asked him to look directly into his webcam to provide an iris scan for identification. It wasn’t a level of security he had to deal with often but it was certainly required now and he would do anything necessary.

He already had gone so much further.

The chat connected and the first thing he saw was a woman in her early forties wearing a lab coat over a pretty floral blouse. She smiled at him before she turned away to talk to someone outside of the camera focus. “Q, the chat you’ve been waiting for just connected.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you, R.” The woman stepped aside and in her place, a man with an oversized steaming mug settled into the chair in front of the camera. Aaron estimated him around Reid’s age but just like their local genius the man could likely pass for younger. The mob of dark hair looked purposefully disheveled and even the tiredness couldn’t mask the intelligence in the green eyes.

“Good evening, Agent Hotchner. I’m glad to see the equipment reached you and is working as designed. I hope you found it easy to use?”

“Yes, thank you, Q. I appreciate the effort. I’d also like to thank you for making a contact at this time of night possible. It is way past civil office hours for you.”

The younger man brushed his apology away with a wave of his hand while taking a sip of his tea. “Don’t mention it. I keep weird hours. Occupational hazard. As for the update you’re calling for... Emily Prentiss has safely arrived at the very private clinic in Switzerland and is recovering as expected. She is still on strong pain medication and sleeps a lot but I have been able to talk to her earlier today so communication is established on all sides. She asked me to give you her regards and to tell you to look after pretty boy. Anything I need to be aware of?”

Aaron couldn’t help but smile. This little tidbit of normalcy relaxed him more than he would have expected possible. “Just a coworker and friend Prentiss has become close to. He doesn’t handle change well and will struggle with our ruse the most. If you speak to her again, please assure her that I’m doing all I can in that regard and that he isn’t alone.”

“I will pass it on. That’s all for now, I think. Everything is prepared for her release from the hospital and I am monitoring every possible avenue someone could attempt to find her discretely to catch possible problems early.”

“I am still a bit puzzled why the quartermaster of MI6 is helping with this international witness protection effort, but I’m very glad you are.”

After another very large sip of tea and a barely suppressed yawn, Q gave him a sheepish smile and it only enhanced the boyish charm of his features. “It’s a who knows whom explanation. In this case, Ambassador Prentiss happens to know my oldest brother and managed the feat of him feeling he owes her somehow. I don’t know the circumstances but it is a curious enough occurrence that I felt compelled to help when he asked me to. That he now owes me is just an added bonus.

“From a strategic point of view, I am probably in a perfect position to monitor Agent Prentiss’ cover and facilitate contact between you. MI6 has the infrastructure, but neither the organisation nor I have any kind of obvious connection to her. It is therefore highly unlikely that I or our system would be targeted to find her.”

“That is certainly true and I am very grateful for your involvement. Now, I don’t want to keep you up any longer.”

They said their good nights and Aaron went home a little less stressed about Emily’s situation.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he spoke to Q was after he’d found the chat icon blinking after he returned from a meeting with various section and unit chiefs. He’d had to satisfy Rossi’s curiosity and promise him a shared dinner soon to get him to leave for his own office, so he could safely open the program.

The chat connected and he saw the quartermaster in the background, furiously typing away and looking back and forth between at least three computer screens.

Aaron allowed himself a moment to enjoy the look of intense focus on the younger man’s face before he cleared his throat. “Is this a bad time, Q? I was stuck in meetings earlier.”

“Agent Hotchner, there you are. And no, this isn’t a bad time. While I do have a bit of a mess to fix, it is nothing urgent and the agent in question doesn’t deserve to have his information to be hurried anyway.”

Aaron just raised an eyebrow in reaction to that and came to the conclusion that Q was not a man one should cross lightly. Not that he had any intention to do so.

“I contacted you because I have someone who would like to talk to you. Just let me establish the contact. I will be here when you two are done catching up.”

Aaron smiled as the picture on the screen changed to show Prentiss, still a little pale but sitting up and smiling. They talked for almost half an hour, mostly with Aaron answering her worried questions about the rest of the team, and telling her to stay put, heal properly and keep her head down. He wasn’t sure how much it would help, he’d gotten a taste of her stubbornness the day he met her after all, but he’d considered it his duty anyway.

When he could see her drooping he said his goodbyes against her protest. He understood her reluctance. He shared it himself. They couldn’t get too used to these little chats. No matter how well protected their communications were through MI6, every and any contact was a risk.

After Emily had reluctantly closed the connection on her end with a barely contained yawn Aaron’s screen again showed what he believed to be Q’s office. But no Q.

He contemplated for only a moment and then started on his paperwork with the chat window still open.

He was just starting on file number four when he heard a surprised, “Agent Hotchner. There was no need to wait for me.”

“It was no problem. And maybe I wanted to say goodbye properly. Maybe I wanted to ask how you were. You seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Q sighed and threw him a look he wasn’t quite sure what to make off. “Annoyed mostly. Stressed is relative around this place. You’ve done enough work for the CIA to know the special brand of people that are attracted to this kind of work. Double-0 agents are a special kind of crazy in this pool and I have one in particular who seemingly aims to become king of the bunch. Managing him is exhausting.”

Aaron watched him slump into his chair and rub his eyes behind the glasses. “What do you do to relax?”

“What?”

“Relaxing. You know, activities that are done to mentally recharge and distract from work duties. Fun.” The teasing tone did his trick and Q’s lips quirked up in a half-smile.

“Right. I think I’ve heard about that. Normal people do that regularly, right?”

“It’s preferred, yes. Not that I’m the best example on that front.”

“Thinking about it, I’m afraid I’m quite the cliché. I like a good game of chess if I have a decent opponent, beyond that I usually just curl up on the couch with a good book and my cats. What about you?”

“I enjoy running to clear my head and every now and then do triathlon. My son keeps on my toes in many ways as well. But I do like a quiet evening on the couch with a book or movie. I’m also a decent chess player if you’re interested.”

“I haven’t had a good chess partner in way too long.”

An alarm went off somewhere outside Q’s office and he pulled a face that reminded Aaron of Jack being told he’d had to do his homework before soccer.

“I’m afraid that requires my attention. It was nice chatting with you, Agent Hotchner. Goodbye!”

The connection was closed before Aaron could say anything, but the younger man kept popping up in his thoughts the whole rest of the day. It was hardly unpleasant.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later the icon of the chat program appeared on his personal tablet. Inside he found a written message.

_I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me to invite myself onto your device like this. If so, feel free to delete the program. I was hoping we could use this to attempt that game of chess we talked about._

_Kind regards_

_Q_

Aaron thought he probably should have an issue with how easily the quartermaster invaded his space but found he simply didn’t mind. He was honestly looking forward to talking to Q outside of their respective workplaces.

Aaron set up his chessboard on a side table and was glad he had it ready when Q called in the next day.

Between the time difference and their often busy schedules, their games could last weeks and the chats about anything and everything they had along with them slowly became Aaron’s favourite adult interaction. They often exchanged short messages throughout the day and Aaron found it not only felt like passing notes in junior high, he also often smiled in reaction to them like a smitten schoolboy.

He was in trouble.

And that he was pretty sure Q felt much the same way only made it worse.

 

* * *

 

 

Then came the day that Emily returned to the BAU.


	3. Thou Shalt Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When NCIS and Stargate Command lose one of their own under similar circumstances, the BAU is called in to find the UnSub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ziva David and Jennifer Keller are murdered off screen.

Gibbs had wondered where Cynthia had hurried off to so he looked up in interest when the elevator arrived with a ding. Her guiding two men in Air Force uniforms towards the stairs was hardly what he expected and it had his gut churning. He couldn’t think of any good reason for a two-star general and a major to pay NCIS a visit. Especially not a two-star general with such a stony face and a chest decorated like that. No way had he earned that by flying a desk.

He looked down at the files on his desk, having the weird but certain inkling that this was what the fly-boys were here for. The case was a mess but - damn it - he didn’t want to share jurisdiction or worse, hand it over.

He knew he should. He was way too close, they all were.

But no matter her flaws, Ziva was one of his and he wanted to be the one to take down the bastard who did this to her.

She didn’t deserve this. Nobody did.

But all he had left to do was find her killer.

He would be damned if he let her down on that as well.

 

* * *

 

 

His phone took longer than he’d thought to summon him upstairs into Leon’s office.

He found all three men sitting at the conference table and took the seat opposite the Air Force officers with ill grace.

“So, what’s the Air Force’s interest in my case?”

Leon raised an eyebrow in question but the general just snorted. “Is that the famous Gibbs gut speaking or the seasoned investigator making conclusions? Or just a sniper instinctively zoning in on a possible threat?”

“Should I be flattered or worried that you had me looked up, General...?”

“O’Neill, two Ls.” He held up three fingers. “And the answer is both, Gunny. But you’re right about our reason for dropping by. As Major Davis here has explained to your Director in detail - because I’ve earned myself the right not to be bothered - we seem to have connected problems and I insist on a combined solution.”

“One stone, two birds?”

“Exactly! I like to be efficient like that, don’t I Major?”

“Yes, sir. Especially if efficiency can be achieved through the generous application of C4.”

Gibbs had to give it to the major, he kept a perfectly straight face, even when O’Neill threw him an exaggeratedly surprised glare from the side. That the general could take the teasing from a subordinate sat well with Gibbs. It wouldn’t make him turn over his files though.

“And what makes you think the Air Force might be better equipped to deal with these murders than NCIS? You two aren’t even AFOSI.”

“I never said we wanted to take over your case, nor are we handing over ours. We will be calling in the experts, the BAU.”

“You wanna work with the FBI, you do that on your own. We can take care of our own.” 

He was halfway out of his chair when the sharp “Gibbs” from Vance kept him back. “I’ve already assured General O’Neill’s of our full cooperation because I agree with his assessment.” He raised his voice to quell Gibbs’ protest before he had fully opened his mouth. “If Officer David was the only victim I would have let you work this investigation your way. But a second victim with the exact same MO is a complete game changer. You have two options. You can either cooperate with the BAU and stay a part of this investigation unless they consider you a hindrance or danger to the case.”

“Oh come on, Leon! You’d really let the feds push us out of this case? It’s our investigation. Ziva is... was one of us. And you wanna just hand it over?!”

“The BAU is hardly known for taking over, which is why you get a chance to stay on the case in the first place. But if you can’t pull your head out of your ass and play nice, I am perfectly willing to make you use some of your vacation time. Which is option two by the way.”

Gibbs was always happy to argue with Leon but he also knew when it would do no good. So he swallowed his protests.

The general leaned forward with laced fingers and all levity was gone from his posture. “To be perfectly clear: I don’t care what kind of pissing contest you have going on with Fornell, who’s winning, or where your general contempt for the FBI comes from. We have two dead women and the only thing that seems to connect them is the way they died. I want the person responsible behind bars or in a body bag, I’m not picky. We’ve exhausted our considerable means and you haven’t turned up anything yet either. The BAU is our best chance to find our killer and not lose anybody else. Or is your ego really more precious than innocent lives?”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and met O’Neill’s glare. “Did it cross your mind that our case would go better if you hadn’t hidden your victim from the regular databases? How are we supposed to factor something into our investigation that we don’t know about?”

“I don’t have to explain the words top and secret to you, do I? Our project is strictly need to know and you didn’t and still don’t need to know. We monitored all the channels concerning our murder, which has brought us here.”

“And how do you figure the BAU will work its magic without proper access?”

It was the major who answered that question. “The team is currently signing basic none disclosure papers before coming over here. Two agents have the necessary clearance to be read in on the project if needed.”

Gibbs only grunted in a sort of answer to that. He didn’t like any of this, but he also acknowledged that he was precariously close to losing the case and his chance to avenge Ziva all together. Biting his tongue and working around the feds seemed like the opportune thing to do.

 

* * *

 

 

“Damn, the orange really is that hideous!” Morgan exclaimed when the whole team including Garcia stepped out of the elevator.

“Couldn’t make this up if I tried, buddy,” DiNozzo answered and stepped around his desk to greet first Derek and then the rest of the team. Hotch used the chance to introduce everyone and DiNozzo pointed out a still grumpy Gibbs and a slightly nervous looking McGee.

“And how do you know this delicious example of manliness and more importantly where and why have you kept him hidden from me?” Garcia sidled up to Tony and turned the flirting to full force but at least saved Hotch the question about their connection in the process.

“We play ball together every now and then. Trust me he doesn’t look all that delicious sweaty and panting,” Derek said with a laugh.

“Oh my chocolate thunder, you let me be the judge of that, seeing as you clearly have nooo idea what can make a man attractive.”

Between Garcia’s sass and Morgan’s dumbfounded expression almost everyone was chuckling and even Hotch allowed himself a half-smile. “Not the right time, Garcia.”

She sighed theatrically. “Pity.”

DiNozzo bussed a kiss onto the back of her hand before she stepped away and then snapped back to business. “We have a conference room setup for you guys and McGeek over here made sure everything is nice and ready on the tech front. If you’ll follow me.” He started down the corridor and kept talking to Hotch, who had fallen into step beside him. “The men in blue are still upstairs with the director but will brief us all as far as their red tape allows once you’re settled in. Just give me a shout.”

They arranged the few things they brought but there really wasn’t much else to do because they knew essentially nothing.

Ever since Cruz had sat down in front of his desk to assign them this case, Hotch had been trying to adjust. The BAU mostly decided which cases they took based on urgency and their own expertise. This time someone had gone directly to the director and they must have had very good arguments.

Hotch had heard about the death of Ziva David, of course he had. When a federal agent died in the DC area, especially under suspicious circumstances, the rumour mill carried the news through the whole alphabet soup in a matter of hours. But the information to be garnered that way was unreliable and scrappy at best.

The only bit Cruz had been able to add so far was that there had been a second female victim, associated with a highly classified military project. Two victims didn’t technically qualify for a serial killer, but with an order from the director himself, Aaron would make sure that the team gave this their best effort.

He looked around the conference room and saw expectant faces all around. Neither was used to going into a case this unprepared.

“Let’s find out what brought us here. Morgan, would you tell Agent DiNozzo that we are ready for that briefing?”

Derek just nodded and headed out to get the ball rolling.

They didn’t have to wait long until the door opened and the room got considerably fuller. DiNozzo took the duty of quickly introducing everyone, even if Director Vance looked a little miffed about that but Hotch appreciated the easy efficiency.

Vance looked even more miffed when General took over next but held his tongue. A two-star general, however, got away with ignoring social niceties and also gave Hotch a bit more of an idea why they had been given no choice about this case.

“Agent Hotchner, I know this isn’t how you usually start an investigation. But we want to use your expertise, not hinder your work, so how would you like this to go?”

He didn’t let his surprise show, but this sounded better than expected. “Ideally, I would like you and the MCRT to present the two cases with as much focus on the facts and as little bias or already drawn conclusions as possible. After that, we’d usually do a round of essentially throwing ideas around. I’m open to having someone sit in on that, but the fewer interruptions we have during that discussion, the quicker we can proceed.”

O’Neill nodded his agreement and so did Vance, with a side-glance at Gibbs, who only shrugged.

DiNozzo and Major Davis took over the presentation of the cases and even with the agent’s flippant style, there was nothing to complain about concerning the information shared.

Afterwards, O’Neill got up from the chair he’d been twiddling around in. “I know, the amount of red tape in Dr Keller’s file makes your life difficult. Do not, and I am so very serious about that, Miss Garcia, do not try to circumvent it. I’m leaving you Major Davis here for all questions that may arise. I trust him to make the call on what you need to know and call me if a certain line needs to be crossed. And to make it perfectly clear to everyone in the room,” he was looking at Vance and Gibbs at this, “the only ones we will at all consider to actually read in on our project are Hotchner and Dr Reid. Their clearances are the closest to what’s needed and it has been determined that two investigators with that level of involvement will just have to do. And there will be absolutely no argument about that, the decision was made above me. Agents.” He nodded at everyone and left the room, ignoring the glares Vance and Gibbs were sending his way.

Vance quickly hid his displeasure and turned back to Hotch. “Is there anything you need from NCIS at this point, Agent Hotchner?”

“Not right now. We have to put the pieces together to see what kind of picture we have before we’ll know where to look next.”

The Director put a toothpick into his mouth and just nodded. “Gibbs, I expect you to fully cooperate and support the BAU, however you wanna arrange that is up to you.” He left and Gibbs immediately pushed himself away from the wall he’d been leaning on. “DiNozzo, you can play babysitter, McGee, get digging. I’m going for coffee.”

Reid perked up at the last word but thankfully stayed quiet. DiNozzo threw a cheerful “Yes, Boss!” after the retreating Gibbs before he turned to the young genius. “I’ll show you where to get the good stuff. Don’t torture yourself with the abomination to be found in the break room.”

“Later,” Hotch interrupted. “For now we need a preliminary profile.”

They all settled down and Garcia put the digital files onto their tablets while Reid snatched up the paper copies Davis and DiNozzo had brought with them.

“Okay, everyone, what do we have?”

“Two women found dead, dumped in the bushes across or beside a Catholic church,” Emily started. “One in Wisconsin, found in the early Sunday morning and the second one here in Virginia, found again on Sunday morning seven days after the first victim.”

JJ took over. “Both women were mid to late twenties and can be described as beautiful. But Agent David has a Mediterranean look with a darker colouring whereas Dr Keller fits the all American girl pattern. Neither woman was particularly tall, but Dr Keller has a petite body type and Agent David was very athletic, so their appearance likely isn’t what attracts the UnSub to them.”

“A former Mossad operative turned US federal agent and a civilian medical doctor associated with the military, their profession doesn’t seem to be an obvious common denominator, either,” was Rossi’s contribution.

“The dumping locations’ proximity to Catholic churches is a connection, does that in any way relate to our victims?” Morgan asked.

Reid tapped his fingers on the closed folders in front of him. “It’s more likely that the Catholic church has a meaning to our UnSub. Dr Keller was raised in a Presbyterian family but put atheist in her file. Agent David was Jewish.”

Hotch looked over at DiNozzo. “Was she religious?”

“I think her religion was important to her, but she kept it mostly private. She certainly wasn’t orthodox but I have to admit we never talked much about these things. She always wore a necklace with the Star of David, so she wasn’t hiding her religion either.“ 

Hotch just nodded at the melancholy in the younger agent’s voice. “Looking at the MO of this UnSub I believe it’s safe to say that religion is in some way important to him.”

“I agree,” Reid jumped in again. “The pages of paper found strewn around the victims were covered with the sentence _Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s man._ Written in what appears to be the respective victim’s handwriting, though it is distorted compared to the examples provided. But that could be explained by all kinds of duress or the victims having to write with their hands tied as they were found.”

“ _Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s man_. A variation of the ninth commandment,” Hotch added.

“That actually depends on which decalog you look at,” Reid provided. “In Catholicism not to covet one’s neighbour’s wife is indeed the ninth commandment and house and all other possessions are grouped under number ten. In most Protestant traditions, however, the neighbour’s house is singled out in number nine, while the wife is thrown in with servants, cattle and everything else in the tenth. Makes you wonder about Martin Luther’s priorities.”

Everyone was looking at Reid, waiting if he was done rambling, but that seemed to be it for now.

“Right,” Rossi picked up, “so the phrasing in this particular case would support the theory that the Catholic church is somehow significant to our UnSub, seeing as it is closer to the division of items in the Catholic decalog. What else do we have?“

Morgan looked over the pictures again. “The victims sustained relatively superficial injuries, though that hardly means that they didn’t suffer a significant amount of pain. The MEs attribute the welts and bruising to a cane or similar item. Their assumption is that the cane was first applied on the clothed body, mostly focusing on the butt, before it was used on bare skin with increasing strength. Neither ME felt comfortable estimating how many lashes the women received, they were that blended together.”

Emily took over. “The UnSub drew blood, but not enough to endanger the women’s life. Judging from when the women were last seen and when their bodies were discovered, he held them for up to three days and gave them at least meager food and water. They showed only moderate signs of dehydration and both had bread in their stomachs.”

“What killed them, were the electroshocks. Both had multiple burn marks, matching therapeutical electrodes, on their body and eventually died from heart failure due to electrocution.” JJ frowned at the notes. “Can that happen with medical equipment? Aren’t there security measures in place?”

All eyes naturally turned to Reid at that question. “Modern equipment has multiple safety measures in place to avoid the dangerous amperage that can lead to severe danger or immediate death. Older equipment is naturally less safe. In theory, every device developed for ECT could be manipulated to deliver a deadly current, though such manipulations would be much easier to implement on an older device. That being said, it doesn’t take all that much to cobble something together with the help of online resources and with a little talent and understanding one could achieve enough control over the current to facilitate the extended torture our victims were apparently subjected to before actually killing them.”

“That leaves the question whether he planned to kill them like this in the first place or if the electroshocks are just intended as a torture device to gain something from the victims, whatever he’s after,” Rossi said. “In that case the death, at least the first one might have been an accident. Or is there a deeper and more symbolic meaning in this for him?” 

Reid answered again. “It’s difficult to say for the first victim at this point without knowing more about his motivation. That the body was dumped just in time for Sunday mess likely is no coincidence but it could have been a spontaneous decision after she died. It’s highly unlikely that the same timing happened by accident again with the second victim, so whether it was part of his MO from the beginning, it certainly has been incorporated now.”

“So what it comes down to is his motivation. What or who do the victims represent to him and what is he trying to accomplish?” Hotch summed up.

“And how does he find them?” Morgan added. “We’ve already established that there is no obvious connection and there were hardly found close together. But two points isn’t enough to get very far with a geographical profile.”

“Are we sure we’re dealing with a male UnSub?” Prentiss asked. “Agent David’s aptitude as a fighter might lead us to think her attacker must have been physically stronger but both women were unaccounted for, for at least 36 hours and there are plenty of drugs that would have been fully metabolised by then. And another woman is usually seen as a lot less threatening and would have an easier time drugging the victims one way or another. The change to the commandment could also point to a female UnSub. A woman that lost her partner to another woman and blames her rather than him. It might be something in the victims' behaviour that reminds her of her rival and makes them into substitutes.”

Hotch looked over the pictures again and nodded. “A valid theory that we should keep in mind. There’s nothing inherently sexual in the MO either.” He looked towards Davis and DiNozzo. “Were the women romantically involved with someone?”

Davis answered first. “Dr. Keller is or rather was engaged to the CSO of her project, Dr. Rodney McKay. And to answer your next question, Dr. McKay hasn’t left the base the project is currently using to prepare for their next time abroad, which is on the west coast. From all I’ve heard he also hasn’t had any noteworthy relationship to another woman for a few years.”

Reid had perked up at the name. “ _The_ Dr. McKay? There’ve been all kinds of rumours about what kind of project might have taken him out of the limelight for so long.”

“You know this guy?” Morgan asked.

“Only by reputation. There are only so many people in our range of intelligence.” He shrugged.

Following a prompting look of Hotch, DiNozzo answered his question. “To the best of my knowledge, Ziva wasn’t seeing anyone. The last relationship I’m aware of was that to a Mossad operative she had dated before. But that ended almost two years ago, when he was revealed to be a double agent and I had to shoot him in self-defence.”

There were a number of raised eyebrows in reaction to that statement, but nobody felt it necessary to dig deeper at this point.

“Okay, anything else we can say already at this point?” Hotch looked around the table but nobody spoke up. “Prentiss and Rossi, I’d like you two to take a trip to Wisconsin. Take a look at the scene and the LEOs who initially handled the case. Question her father, people she interacted with during her visit, people from her childhood and youth. Try to get as complete a picture as you can. Morgan and JJ, start the same around here. Reid, we two will have a look at the body of Agent David and then I’d like to talk to Dr. Keller’s fiancé. I assume you can set up a video chat, Major Davis?”

“Yes, we were given permission to use the secure lines of the NCIS’ MTAC. I’ll prepare everything.”

“Thank you. Let’s get going.”


	4. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer likes to feel claimed and owned. Aaron believes himself too overbearingly possessive. Sounds like a match but when are things ever this easy?
> 
> This story has been completed and can be found here:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14760518/chapters/34132025

Contrary to popular believe Spencer Reid had had relationships. Plural. And yes, sexual.

He‘d even had them with women and men. Why would anybody think that a scientific mind wouldn‘t consider and experiment with all variables to a problem?

The result however had always been the same: unsatisfying.

That didn‘t necessarily apply to the sex, some of that had been quite pleasurable, though not everything had proven fulfilling for both parties involved. (That one adventurous night at uni when three people had shared a bed had been rather fun for all of them, just not something they had wanted to do on a regular basis.)

What never worked out the way Spencer wanted it to was the relationship part.

Dating people outside of his scientific fields usually ended up with a silence in which neither felt in the loop on the other‘s interests and frame of reference.

Dating people inside of his scientific fields ended with them finding his emotional needs confusing, illogical and simply too needy. Most people he found academically stimulating addressed emotions like equations and he was a variable that wasn‘t properly defined.

Dating within his current field of work just didn‘t seem like a good idea. Law enforcement couples seldom worked, JJ and Will being a rare exception but not without bumps in the road. Also, most people doing their job didn‘t quite take him seriously, at least not outside his intellectual abilities. And how could that ever be a foundation for a relationship?

There was another issue that kept him from mixing his job and his love life but that he tried not to think about.

So Spencer had mostly given up dating or looking for a relationship. It didn‘t mean he stopped wishing.

Whenever books and coffee shops and the chess tables at the park or time with his godson couldn‘t stave off the loneliness, he liked to go out.

Morgan would probably have a stroke if he‘d knew and most definitely if he saw Spencer in his clubbing outfit. It wasn‘t a side he was willing to share with his colleagues, no matter how much he cared about them. He didn‘t want it dragged out on their schedule, it was his and his alone to control and let loose.

Tonight was such a night.

He‘d known he‘d want a night on the wilder side soon and had checked the event calendar for something interesting. Some sexual gratification by anything but his hand - with or without a toy - would also be nice.

The team had a long weekend having worked cases out of town the last two and so he didn‘t have to worry about being called away. And one of the clubs he liked had a theme night.

Masquerade.

The club had a very open-minded policy and therefore a colourful clientele. So this night would likely see anything from conservative clothes with traditional masks over outrageous costumes to fetish-wear skirting the line of public indecency.

Spencer enjoyed a shower and arranged his once again shorter hair to ‘artfully tussled’. Hotch may have called it a boy band haircut at one time, but he‘d found he liked it and it held some attraction for others.

He got dressed in front of the mirror. Purple skinny jeans that very much nixed boxers as a choice of underwear, they were that tight around his hips and butt. A black dress shirt with just enough silk to be soft and a little shiny without turning flamboyant and cut snug in all the right places. He loved his vibrant purple Converse that had been a special edition and that he didn‘t wear all that often - all the white parts would glow lilac under UV-light.

Giving himself one last once over, he grabbed his phone, ID, keys and a little cash. The club offered a membership of sorts, that allowed you to pay everything with a small chip you could wear as a wristband, keychain or necklace. He'd even seen it as a tag on a collar once. He might not be overly fond of wearing a wristband but it was way more convenient and comfortable than shoving his whole wallet into the too tight pockets of his jeans.

He already had a fairly simple black and purple mask in the pocket of his coat, so he was soon good to go and headed for the metro station. He'd treat himself to a cab for the way home.

* * *

 

 

The  _ Panoply _ had gone from comfortably full to pretty crowded in the time Spencer had been there already. What would usually make him uncomfortable never seemed to bother him as much when he was in one of these moods and he soaked up the atmosphere.

He'd slowly sucked his  _ Black Sheep _ through the fluorescent straw while talking to a guy dressed as a circus director and a woman in a catsuit (the furry type with tail and matching ears).

He had danced with men and women alike and allowed himself to be touched like he rarely did. Given the wild mix of lifestyles the crowd at  _ Panoply _ subscribed to, mutual respect and acceptance of boundaries was essential. The staff worked hard to ensure a safe atmosphere for everyone. That included that nobody got really drunk at the club - they did serve alcohol, but they'd cut you off before you got stupid.

At one point Spencer had been fairly certain he'd seen David Rossi in a white suit and matching glittery mask (Really Dave? White glitter?) vanish out the door with a young woman made up as a ballerina doll.

He was heading for the bar for some water when his breath caught in his throat. Dave may have left with a young woman but it looked like he'd arrived in different company and left his friend behind in favour of getting laid. 

Why else would Aaron Hotchner stand at the bar in such a club?

Gathering his senses and courage about him, Spencer sidled up to his boss's side when the man was just ordering a beer and fumbled for his wallet - you didn't have to have the membership payment arrangement after all.

“Add a water and it's all on me.” Spencer stretched his arm over the bar for his chip to be scanned.

Hotch's head snapped around.

The acoustic in the club was setup so that the music was nice and loud on the dance floor but a lot more moderate around the bar and sitting booths. There was no chance Hotch hadn't recognised his voice and when dark chocolate eyes surrounded by a plain black mask met hazel ones there was no doubt left.

Spencer just gave a half smile and cocked his head in question. 

“Do you often buy random strangers a drink?” So Hotch was willing to play. Nice.

“Why shouldn't a guy buy an attractive man the occasional drink? It's just a beer after all.” Spencer was honestly a little proud how well he pulled of the casual tone. It didn't match his jitters at all.

He was rewarded with a trademark half-smile and though it was difficult to tell with the lights in the club, he could have sworn that his stoic boss was blushing. “Attractive, hn? And would you be hoping for anything in return for your kindness?”

“As I said, it's just a beer and that smile certainly qualifies as a reward already. Though I wouldn't mind if you wanted to drag me off to the dance floor at any point this fine night. Enjoy the party.” Spencer grabbed his bottle of water and made his escape while he still felt he was ahead of the game.  _ What in the name of sanity are you doing, Spencer Reid? You just flirted and basically propositioned your boss! _

He tried to distract himself with dancing but it wouldn't quite work. He kept registering Hotch out of the corner of his eye and was hyper aware of his boss watching him. Hotch's intensity could take on a presence all of its own and was hard to ignore if directed at you. And right now all that attention was and stayed focused on Spencer.

He was tempted to put on a show and the same time felt ridiculous for it so he tried to just dance and not let his partners feel too much like he wasn't interested in them.

His current dancing companion was a rather perceptive woman. She kept glancing back and forth between Hotch and him and eventually put her mouth to his ear. “So what's up with you and dark and handsome over there?”

“It's complicated,” was really all the answer he could muster.

“Good complicated or bad complicated?” There was some actual concern in her voice, not just curiosity and Spencer wondered if she'd had a bad experience herself.

“Just awkward complicated. He's an amazing guy.” He twirled her away and pulled her back in, but she wasn't one to give up so easily.

“But?”

Spencer sighed internally. “But he's my boss.”

“Yeah, that makes for awkward.” She got a glint in her eyes that reminded Spencer of Garcia whenever she had mischief on her mind. “Wanna see if you can make him jealous anyway?”

And Spencer was obviously in an adventurous mood far beyond his normal range because he found himself nodding yes. One cocktail was by no means enough to blame the alcohol.

Making someone jealous naturally meant their dancing turned a lot more lascivious. Her hands were wandering and caressing and ended up grabbing his ass a few times. She definitely had talent as a seductress and Spencer acknowledged that without Hotch around, he would allow himself to enjoy her company for the night in a heartbeat.

He tried his best to reciprocate and let her know that her efforts were appreciated and not just in regards to their little scheme. He hated being used and making people feel used in return, even if they offered.

She turned him towards Hotch, plastered her body against his back and let her hands wander over his thighs and stomach teasingly. Spencer did his best not to make it to obvious but as she intended, he had a fairly straight line of sight to Hotch. What surprised him was the tight grip the man had on his by now empty beer bottle and the fire he thought he was seeing in those wonderful dark eyes.

Hotch lasted another half song but when the music changed the next time Spencer felt strong hands coming to rest on his hips and a familiar voice rolled over his shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, but I believe I owe you a dance.”

Spencer's dancing partner gave Hotch a stern look. “You're not sorry at all, handsome. But neither is cutie pie here, so it's alright.” She brushed a kiss against Spencer's cheek and whispered “Go get him” in his ear.

Hotch let his hands wander forward from there position until his arms loosely wrapped around Spencer's middle and he could pull the younger man into his chest. “You've been playing with me, tempting me all evening. I hope you know what you are getting into, because I feel very much disinclined to let you go again, now that I have you.”

“Hmm, so sure of yourself, are you. Who says I'll let you have me so easily?” Spencer's words were somewhat contrary to his body language, he was well aware. He didn't want to end this game, whatever it was, too soon, because he worried the spell might break and Hotch would pull back. But he just couldn't help his instinctual response to the strong arms holding him and leaned into the chest behind him.

Hotch had become a steady rock for him over the years. Someone who subtly cared and supported and who simply never wavered in who he was. And Spencer had come to care for that, for the man who kept himself hidden so carefully behind his stoic professionalism. After all, Spencer was good at finding hidden things.

This trust he already had for the man swaying him to the currently slower music made everything else all too easy. Made him feel a connection he had often worked for and failed to find with partners.

Gosh, giving into this was such a bad idea, but Spencer was feeling selfish and if just this once was all he got, he'd take it all the same.

He let himself drop into Hotch's arms a little more, rubbing against the firm chest, only to withdraw and turn around seconds later. He kept dancing with Hotch but wasn't relying on his support any longer. He noted with pleasure the trace of disappointment in the other man's eyes.

Hotch for his part was trying to pull Spencer in close and Spencer's mind was all to willing to read that as Hotch staking his claim. But no good scientist ever drew a conclusion without proper testing of his hypothesis and so he kept playing it up. He used any offer in the music to turn and break Hotch's grip and the older man would reach out and grab a fresh hold of him a little quicker and a little tighter every time. He'd step slightly away from Hotch only to have him follow after, never letting the distance between them grow too far.

Their little game went on for a while until Hotch grabbed Spencer's wrist mid turn and pulled him right into his chest, holding him there with no way to escape without a struggle. Not that Spencer had any intention to even try, feeling quiet happy and almost floating where he was.

“You're a little minx, aren't you?” Hotch almost growled into Spencer's ear and sent shivers down his spine. “Always trying to get away from me, yet coming back oh so very willingly. Do you want to test me? Or do you want to force my hand? Because I have to tell you, I'm this close to just picking you up and carrying you out of here to make you make good on your teasing.”

“I'd much prefer walking out on my own feet, but you could drag me anywhere you'd like and I promise the teasing will be delivered upon.” This got him an actual growl in response and Spencer found himself pulled impossibly closer into his partners body, feeling a hardness he'd never thought he'd ignite. He had his answer and for whatever reason Hotch was giving in to him, for tonight he just wanted it.


	5. Swingsets And Valentine's Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Jack has his own approach to Valentine's costumes.

He carefully opened the bedroom door so as not to wake his son. As most evenings, Jack had fallen asleep while reading, with the lights still on and the book slid down onto the mattress. Aaron smiled fondly and rescued the book, putting the mark between the pages, before he tucked Jack in properly and buzzed a kiss onto his forehead. 

When he turned to switch off the light his eye fell on the Valentine‘s cards on the small desk. The majority was still stacked and tied with the heart-covered ribbon, albite less tidy than Ms Miller, Jack’s teacher had done it. But four had been taken out and placed upright along the little blotter. They were the four ‘proper’ Valentine’s Jack had gotten. 

The last two weeks Ms Miller had made time throughout the days for the students to craft or draw a Valentine’s for each of their classmates. She had provided a list of suggestions for what could be written on the cards and there had also been patterns that just needed to be coloured in for the students less confident in their artistic skills. She had emphasised that they could give different types of cards, everything from wishing the other a lovely day or making a compliment, over telling a friend how important they were, to the more traditional and romantic messages - as far as those appealed to nine-year-olds.

Aaron knew that Jack hadn’t given any of the latter type to anyone, but he had received four. He smiled when he remembered picking Jack up from school earlier. 

He’d been confused to see Ms Miller waiting outside as it wasn’t her day to oversee the students leaving. The feeling had only worsened when she came his way the moment she saw him.

“Agent Hotchner, I had hoped you would be able to pick Jack up yourself today.”

“Ms Miller, is everything all right? Did Jack get into trouble somehow?” It wasn’t likely, but Aaron wasn’t one of those fathers who thought their kid was perfectly innocent in every situation.

“No, everything is fine. I just wanted to tell you something that happened after the children exchanged their Valentine’s cards today.” She gestured towards a bench and he followed her.

“As you might expect there was a lot of giggling and blushing and coy looks going on when everyone read their cards. Some shared them with others or compared how many of which type they got. You know children. Anyway, Jack read his in private and he got four more romantic cards.”

Aaron’s eyebrows went up. “Four? I’m starting to dread puberty more and more.”

“Well, he certainly inherited his father’s good looks and manners, so you have only yourself to blame,” Ms Miller teased. Aaron didn’t mind it because she never outright flirted with him. “So, I let them mingle and how the kids react to their various cards is always very intriguing and telling. Jack had most definitely made a plan.”

“Oh god, I fear the worst. The results are always rather unique when my son makes plans.”

That made Ms Miller laugh. “This time it was charming. He went around the class to the three girls he had received cards from.” 

Aaron noticed the difference in number but chose not to address that just now.

“He walked up to each girl, held out his hand for hers, very gentlemanly buzzed a kiss onto the back of the girl’s hand and said, very earnestly, “Thank you for your Valentine’s card, I really appreciate it and while I like you, I don’t think I feel ready for anything romantic so I hope we will stay good friends.” He used the exact same words every time that’s why I think he had thought this up ahead.”

Aaron nodded. “He asked me how to spell _appreciate_ two nights ago. I didn’t think anything of it, but he was scribbling and crossing out lines on a piece of paper a lot. But you said he received four cards but only went to three girls.”

“Yes. The fourth card was from a boy.” She closely watched his reaction and relaxed when none really came. 

He just looked expectantly. “And how did he handle that?”

“The exact same way. Same little speech, kiss on the hand and earnestness. He also completely ignored the giggles and stares from the rest of the class. Carlton and him are good friends so there was quite the potential for awkwardness, but during recess they played almost like nothing had happened.”

“That’s good. I would have hated for something like this to ruin their friendship. Jack would certainly miss Carlton.”

“I’m starting to see where Jack gets his attitude from if this fazes you so little. It certainly wasn’t a big deal for the two and the rest of the kids stopped teasing them quickly when they didn’t get a response. Not that I would have let it go on for long. But it’s the kind of thing you want to tell the parents yourself to gauge the reaction on that end.”

“I know the image I portrait but I left that set of conservative southern values long behind me. The only thing I want for my son is to grow up happy and safe, with as few hang-ups as possible. I really don’t care about which path he takes to find his happiness.”

“You are a good father, Agent Hotchner, and Jack is lucky to have you.” With that she had left him on the bench and called Jack over from the swings to point him towards his father.


	6. Used To Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has to face a former lover again. His emotions about that are complicated but at least he doesn't have to face the storm alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tissue warning for this one. I've been yelled at already. *SorryNotSorry*

Tony stood in the corridor, looking into the room through the observation window. He was vaguely aware that he had been standing there for quite some time, though he had no idea how long exactly.

Looking at the unmoving form of the man in the bed on the other side of the window felt wrong. It always felt wrong when he was this still, had for as long as Tony had known him.

Tony felt somebody come to stand beside him but didn’t bother to look. When strong fingers entwined with his he let out a shuddering breath and used his free hand to stubbornly brush away the traitorous tear that had spilt over.

“What the heck was Jethro thinking?! How dare he be so reckless and get himself shot? Stupid bloody Marine hero complex!” He wanted to be angry - at the whole situation, the criminals that had caused this whole mess, the man on the bed. Instead, he was worried and that made him angry at himself.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really, no.” Tony snorted without any humour. “What gave me away?”

“You don’t normally call him Jethro.”

“Because the bastard doesn’t deserve it. He threw all that away. He worked so hard to earn that second B, he might as well be addressed by it. Damn it!” He wiped his hand over his eyes again in frustration. “Why am I even standing here?”

“That’s a question only you can answer.”

“You know, it can be quite infuriating when you’re all insightful and reasonable.”

He felt more than saw the shrug of his companion’s shoulders. He hadn’t expected an actual answer.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. It’s all jumbled up. I… Seeing him like this feels wrong. I guess it’s brought up all kinds of old feelings. He has this air of invincibility around him that when he does get struck down, it just puts everything a little off-kilter. It woke my old habit of worrying about him, which is stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid to worry about somebody badly hurt, especially not if you were once close to that person, Tony.”

“But at the same time, I’m still angry at him. About the shit that put him in that bed, about the past, about what he did to me… I don’t feel ready to let that anger go.”

“But?”

“But for the first time in a very long while I feel a little of what I used to feel for him. It’s not so much old feelings returning, it’s more like the memories take on an emotional depth that they’d lost. I’ve grown so comfortable in hating him and suddenly, I remember how much I used to care for him. And I don’t quite know what to do with that.”

“You used to love him. That’s not something that ever truly lets you go.”

“I’m not sure. At the time I certainly thought I was in love with him. But given what I know now, I think I was just settling in a way, fancying myself in love because I didn’t know what I was looking for.”

“We can love different people in different ways and for different reasons. Our own feelings are still equally important.”

Tony was quiet for a while, staring at the man that represented his past and pulling strength from the man that was his present and future right beside him.

“It makes me wonder, you know.”

“About what?”

“Why did he have to ruin it all? And what would have been if he hadn’t? I can’t imagine I’d be as happy as I am. But I also wouldn’t carry this hurt and betrayal around with me.”


	7. Know your colleague

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tired with his team bugging him, Spencer finds a very effective way to shut them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will get a proper title that fits the whole fic later. I just picked something that fit this part.

It had been a quiet week of consults, teaching classes and paperwork. So the team was packing up their things at an early four o‘clock on Friday afternoon exchanging banter, gossip, and weekend plans.

“Hey Reid,“ Emily asked across the bullpen, “you want to come to that new club with us? Garcia promised that Derek isn‘t lying about the bearable noise level and the amount of seating areas.“

“Hey, hey, hey, wait a moment,“ Derek stepped in playing at defensive, “when have I ever lied to you guys about the qualities of a club? But really, pretty boy, you should come along.“

“Yes, Spence, it‘ll do you good to go out once in a while.“ Spencer looked at JJ with some worry. If she joined the others on a get-Spencer-to-party-mission it always turned into an all-out assault on his preferences.

And of course Garcia had to join in at that very moment. “Are we still trying to convince Reid to join us? I thought we were all going? Team night out, even Hotch agreed to come along. Reid, my darling genius, you can‘t leave us hanging! Please, please come with us? I‘ll make you a whole batch of coffee muffins for Monday, just for you. I‘ll slap Derek if he tries to steal one.“

Spencer smiled at the promise while Morgan huffed over at his own desk. “Sorry guys, but I already have plans for tonight. Another time.“

Rossi stepped in between their desks in that moment. “What do I hear about plans more important than your teammates, Reid? I mean tonight is almost ideal. With both me and Aaron coming along you won‘t be manning the table on your own.“

“Yeah, Reid, come on,“ Derek started another attempt. “I know your kind of plans and no guy your age should spend a Friday evening on the couch with Chinese take-out and a stack of dusty books. How will you ever find someone if you only ever hide at home or at work?“

“He does have a point,“ Emily added. “I‘m not saying you‘ll find the love of your life during a night clubbing, but it can‘t hurt to go out and socialise a little.“

Hotch came out of his office at this point, leaning onto the railway and observing the conversation.

Spencer sighed as he dropped the last of his things into his satchel and turned fully towards his colleagues. Maybe it was time. “You know what? As you all know me so well and know so much better than me what is good for me, I‘ll tell you my plans for the evening and you can tell me whether or not you approve. So first I was promised a very nice, home cooked meal. After that I‘ve gotten us tickets for the only showing of _Casablanca_ during this year‘s open-air cinema. And later I was hoping to finish the night with some rather delicious sex for dessert. Any thoughts?“

Silence.

But then his co-workers recovered their voices and ability to ask questions.

“You‘re seeing someone?“ - “What‘s her name?“ - “What does she do for a living?“ - “Is she as clever as you?“ - “How did you meet?“ - “So, is she good-looking?“ - “How long?“ - “Is she also a little nerdy?“ - “Does she understand the job?“ - “Is she good enough for you?“ - “Can she cook?“ - “Is she as awkward as you?“ - “Where‘s she from?“ - “What‘s she like in bed?“ --- Yup, he had most certainly opened pandora‘s box.

He just waited and quirked an eyebrow until Rossi‘s whistle made the cacophony of questions stop.

“Thank you. And to answer your questions, at least the appropriate ones: Absolutely gorgeous, green eyes, athletic, the proverbial social butterfly, completely out of my league, but I‘ll most certainly not complain. Also works in law enforcement, pretty clever, though more street smarts than book smarts, with a hidden streak of nerdiness. Great humour, wonderful cook, but what else would you expect from a half-Italian. We met through work and have been together for almost two years. Oh, and his name is Tony.“

And leaving his gobsmacked friends behind he dropped his satchel over his head and sauntered out of the BAU waving a last “Enjoy your night“ over his shoulder.

The team was still staring at the long closed glass doors when Derek found his voice again. “We walked right into that, didn‘t we?“

“Yes, you did,“ Hotch said dryly.


	8. Animi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape had made peace with his fate. But maybe Harry Potter wasn't the only one around Hogwarts the rules didn't apply to.

Albus Dumbledore was making his way through the halls of Hogwarts, outside the great doors and turned towards the lake. Every now and then his steps faltered, showing not his old age but his hesitation and anxiousness.

He had been sitting in his office, humming around a lemon drop and looking through the first reports on the new students. Only a few weeks into the school term, everybody was doing all right and some children had already proven to be quite promising.

He had looked up from his paperwork admiring the sunset outside his window - no matter how long he had this office, the view never ceased to amaze him - when with a distinctive “Plop“ Tably, his personal house-elf appeared.

“Sorry to disturb you, Headmaster Sir, but me has been given a letter for you from Professor Snape. Professor Snape said to deliver it at precisely the moment the sun sets.“

Dumbledore took the letter from the house-elf‘s small hands, puzzled and slightly amused by his potions master‘s antics.

“Thank you Tably, that will be all, I think.“

Tably bowed his head and disappeared with another plop.

Dumbledore took a closer look at the heavy parchment in his hands. It was sealed with dark green wax, imprinted with the Slytherin crest and when he turned it over, he was surprised to find it addressed in Severus Snape‘s distinctive spidery, but elegant script to _Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_. 

’Quite formal, Severus, even for you.‘

He couldn‘t put his finger on it, but an uneasy feeling settled inside his gut. With a deep sigh, he broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

 

_Dear Albus,_

_I am truly sorry to ruin this lovely evening of yours with bad news, but there is nothing I can do to change the facts and their results. When this letter is handed to you, the sun has set and I am dead._

_To take one of the worries undoubtedly arising in your mind from you: The school and the students are in no danger; the Dark Lord has no doing in my demise. Just this once, he is not to blame._

_And neither are you. I will not pretend to particularly like my life - we both know this is not the case - but I am by no means desperate enough to put an end to it. I have spent the last almost two decades doing what needed to be done and though I often accused you of guilt-tripping me into it, everything I did was done because of my own deep conviction to our cause._

_Before I answer your question of how I know the time of my death, if neither of the aforementioned cases is true, let me tell you this: There was nothing, absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent this. You are a brilliant man and wizard Albus and I was always grateful to call you my teacher, my mentor and my friend. You were more to me, then my family ever was and I trust you more than anybody else. If I would have thought, there was the slightest possibility for you to find a solution, I would have confided in you. But there is no such possibility, so I did not see a reason to burden your mind and soul with the knowledge of what was to come._

_Today is my fortieth birthday and while I thank you for not making me celebrate it in any way I can‘t deny the significance of this day._

_Centuries ago one of my ancestors mated with an animus caeli_ _._

_I assume you don‘t need any further explanations._

_Please know, that I may not have lived the life of my dreams, but it was the life of my choosing. I have no regrets other than not having seen the Dark Lord‘s downfall with my own eyes, but I trust your instincts on that, believe in your eventual success and wish you all the best of luck._

_Everything I owned is yours, I hope some might be helpful or at least amusing to you._

_You will find me or more precisely my body by the lake, in the small creek near the forest. No student will see me there and while I lived in the shadows I wanted to spend my last moments in the sunlight._

_Farewell, old friend,_

_Severus Snape_

 

Albus had felt his heart stop at the end of the first paragraph, but had somehow made it through the rest of the letter. He hadn‘t even noticed the tears that silently poured down his cheeks and when he did, he didn‘t care. If this was true, if his dear friend, brother in arms and almost son was dead, then tears were the only appropriate reaction.

But he wasn‘t ready to believe it. He couldn‘t believe it, not until he had seen it with his own eyes, had seen the lifeless body, felt the missing pulse, sensed the absence of magic.

That was why he was making his way down to the lake now, torn between the need for prove and the fear of finding it.

When he finally reached the opening between the trees and the natural wall of stones that separated the creek Severus had chosen from the rest of the grounds, Albus needed to pause and take a deep breath before he could move on. He straightened his back, trying to not give into the trepidation and stepped into the open.

It had turned quite dark during his way down, but the moon was already up and bright, reflecting in the water. Against it, Albus could see a dark figure, sitting on an old tree trunk, the back straight and rigid, so very Severus. He had expected a body lying on the ground or maybe sitting slumped over. But death sometimes had funny ways, especially with magical deaths.

Albus gathered his resolve and stepped closer to the figure, his hand hovering over one shoulder, anxious of what would happen, if he actually touched it. Anxious of seeing his still flickering hope crumble, if the body did just that.

The moment he lowered his hand down on the shoulder the head above it turned towards him and the onyx-black eyes he knew so well looked back at him. Albus slumped down on the trunk, a wave of relief washing through him, mixed with the same confusion he saw in those eyes staring at him.

“How, Albus? How can I be forty, alone and still be sitting here, looking into the darkness? How?“


	9. Potential - Episode 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change in the team dynamic makes Spencer re-evalute his life and career. He comes to the decision that a change might be in order. He has no idea how fundamental a change it will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the one episode I managed to write during last July's Rough Trade challenge. I have an arc with ten episodes plotted and it will become a Spencer/Evan/Miko triad.

**Episode 1 - At Loose Ends**

 

_“It means that you must do what you really and truly want._

_And nothing is more difficult. [...]_

_It’s your own deepest secret and you yourself don’t know it.”_

_(Graógramán in The Neverending Story, Michael Ende)_

 

“Stop. Sidelining. Me.”

The whole team stopped on their way out of the little conference room they were using. That tone was not at all what they were used to from one Dr. Spencer Reid and his frustration had hit them in the back almost like it had become a physical thing that he’d thrown after them. And they were all caught unprepared.

“What are you talking about?” Morgan asked carefully.

“About the fact that you never let me go out in the field anymore and I have no idea what I could have done to warrant such a punishment.”

Derek’s eyebrow climbed up his forehead. “But you are in the field. You are here with us.” He added a vague hand gesture to encompass the rest of the team.

“I may not be left behind in Quantico, but I don’t go anywhere with you anymore. You always make me stay at the station. You do remember that I’m a fully qualified, armed federal agent, don’t you?”

There were some thoughtful expressions and looks of sympathy on the faces of the others but Derek only sighed. “Is this really the time? We finally have a solid lead and a chance to catch this bastard. Or is your disagreement with my orders more important?”

Dave narrowed his eyes at the dangerous challenge in the last sentence but didn’t interfere.

Spencer looked at the man he had called one of his best friends for more than a decade and wondered how a simple promotion could have changed so much. Or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe what had been there all along was just coming more evidently to the surface. He sighed and slumped against the table behind him in resignation. “Go. Catch our UnSub.”

Everybody did just that, though there was more than one slightly worried look thrown back at him. Looks he didn’t notice.

When the others were already heading out the door to their SUVs he finally looked up again. “Go and be agents,” he murmured and then went back to what little work there was still to do, sorting through the papers and prepping them for an interrogation and all the documentation required for the prosecution.

 

* * *

 

 

When they boarded the jet, Spencer settled into the corner seat at the back and immediately buried his nose in a book. Everyone was in a light mood, going home after a case that went relatively well. But Spencer didn’t feel like joining the easy banter.

The seatbelt signs had barely turned off when a fragrant mug of coffee appeared in his field of vision. Following the arm holding out to him with his eyes he came to Prentiss’ slightly concerned face and just raised an eyebrow in question.

“You sit down furthest from the coffee maker, I start worrying.” She prodded the mug further in his direction and he took it with a half-smile.

“Thanks. I just want to be on my own a bit, have a lot on my mind.”

“Okay then. Are we still on for the ultimate Star Trek marathon next weekend?”

“Of course we are. Why would I give up Star Trek on your extra comfortable couch?” The lightness in his voice was a little forced and they both knew it, but he did look forward to it and Emily let it slide.

He went back to his book and his coffee but his peace wasn’t to last.

When Morgan plopped himself down in the seat across from Spencer, the others were trying to be subtle about listening in, but Spencer thought them quite obvious. Not that he cared.

“So, pretty boy, wanna tell me what that was all about earlier at the station? Since when do you have a problem following my orders?”

Spencer sighed and closed his book. “I don’t have a problem following your orders. I have a problem being stuck with files and case boards all the damn time. I almost feel like you are hiding me away, Derek.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I hide you? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Then why don’t you let me do any task outside of the police stations? Why don’t I ever get to talk to victims, witnesses or suspects anymore? Did I do something to warrant this? Because if I did, you have to help me out here. For the life of me and all my excellent memory, I can’t think of a single thing that could have possibly earned me this treatment.” Spencer had tried to keep his tone neutral, not wanting to push this into emotional territory, but he knew his frustration was shining through.

“You didn’t do anything. I’m not hiding or punishing you! What the fuck?! Why would you even think that?” Derek was getting more and more agitated and Spencer was sure it would only get worse. Maybe the confined space of the jet wasn’t the best place to do this. Well, he hadn’t started it, but he wouldn’t back down.

“Tell me, Derek, how many places have I gone to during the last six cases that weren’t our assigned working space or my hotel room. Hm?” Derek’s eyebrows rose at the challenging tone but Spencer could see him thinking, searching his memory.

“I don’t know, genius, you tell me, you have the super memory.”

“One. It was exactly one. And that was the ME just across the street, the one who we were warned had no patience with people who didn’t understand medical terminology. You haven’t assigned me a single task that wasn’t file or map related. Not even when I suggested I might have a better chance getting through to that shy geeky girl three cases ago. Not even when I asked to see the dump site in person two cases ago because I couldn’t make out the lay of the land from the pictures. You know, the view that turned out to be so important to the UnSub?“ He could see a mixture of shock and denial spread over Derek’s face but wasn’t at all sure on which side the coin would fall, so he powered on.

“You’ve essentially confined me to paperwork since shortly after you took over as Unit Chief. You do remember that I’m an agent, not a consultant or analyst, right?”

“He’s right, Morgan,” Rossi said from behind Derek. “I hadn’t really noticed, but thinking back, he’s right.”

“Yeah,” Emily joined in, “you are sidelining him and I can’t think of a reason either. Doesn’t seem fair.”

Spencer could see the stubbornness rise in Derek and resigned himself to not reaching a solution to this issue.

“I’m not sidelining anybody! I’m just utilising the strengths of each team member to the greatest advantage for the case, that’s my job in case all of you forgot. And sorry, Spencer, but you are the best and the fastest when it comes to files and maps. We are doing criminal investigations, not make a wish, I thought you got that.”

“Of course I do. And I know my strengths and weaknesses, believe me. I know I’m nobody’s first choice to bust down a door, I wouldn’t want to be. I know I’m the one best suited to work through the stacks of written ramblings collected during years of delusions. I don’t mind. I enjoy doing the geographical profiles. But I can do more and I am more than that. I’ve put a great deal of effort into developing and rounding up my skills over the years. And all of you have helped with that.

“And now you are ignoring all that and pushing it aside, treating me like I’m still the overly awkward, clumsy kid that joined the BAU more than a decade ago. You are selling me short, Derek, and you aren’t doing the team or our investigations any favours focusing on a narrow part of my skills. We are as successful as we are because everyone on this team looks at things differently, hears different nuances and asks different questions. You keeping me away from large parts of the investigation just means that you are cutting away one point of view. And I honestly don’t get why.”

“You just do much better in an office than out in the field.” Derek seemed at a loss for words but no closer to giving in than when he sat down.

Emily narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side, as she often did when she was close to figuring something out. “Are you trying to keep Spencer safe?”

“What?” Spencer’s face wasn’t the only one to turn to Prentiss in surprise.

She must have seen something in Derek’s expression that the others missed. “Oh god, you really do, don’t you. You have protectiveness and worry written all over your face, so don’t even try to deny it.”

Spencer looked back at Derek and saw him swallow.

“Can you blame me? Reid is awfully prone to get himself hurt or into dangerous situations. Looking out for all of you is also part of my job.”

“Derek, our job is dangerous.” Spencer tried to stay calm and not let his mixed feelings of hurt and annoyance show. “I knew that when I entered the Academy when I signed my contract, and every single day since then when I put on the badge and my weapon. It’s a risk we all decide to take and it’s a little insulting that you think I should be singled out and I alone should be protected from the possible consequences of a choice we all made. I don’t think I’ve been reckless in a very long time. I’m a grown man and nobody gets to make decisions for me. That includes you.”

“First case under my lead, you get your arm broken by an UnSub. I should have been there, should have had your back.”

“We all agreed to split up to cover the large terrain. It wasn’t ideal for any of us, but a necessary and calculated risk. It was pure chance that I was the one to come across him. You may also remember that despite a broken arm I had the guy in handcuffs and on the ground by the time you got to us. And that was largely your training, Derek. That’s your job, to take all reasonable precautions, to prepare us the best you can for any danger, and then you just have trust that we all do out job. But you haven’t been letting me do mine.”

“It’s just... with you, pretty boy...”

“I’m not your little brother, Derek. I’m not the innocent, clueless nerd that joined the BAU, I’m not sure I ever was to the extent you think. You’ve put me into a box and never let me out and it’s hurting me, you, and the team as a whole. And something has to change.”

Derek narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure yet. But this can’t go on like it has, it isn’t good for anyone, least of all me. You are trying to protect me, I can acknowledge the sentiment. But if your protection is hurting me, then I’ll have to draw my own consequences.” He got up to get a fresh coffee and received a pat on the shoulder from Rossi as he passed.

When he returned to his seat, Derek was back in his own and staring out of the window. Spencer wasn’t sure their talk would change things.

He could only wait and see.

 

* * *

 

 

Spencer was looking over the boxes he had stacked beside his coffee table. Rather than tackling them right away, he went into the kitchen to make himself some coffee and then stood leaning on the high counter, sipping from his mug and staring at the boxes in apprehension, not really seeing them.

When his very large mug was empty, he poured another and told himself to quit avoiding the inevitable.

Settled on his couch he opened the first box and slowly unpacked its contents.

It was difficult to comprehend how much of his mother was still there, here, in her things.

When he had received the call months prior, that she had died in her sleep, he had been numb and all over the place at the same time. He had lost his mother little by little ever since he was born. Her schizophrenia, him going away to college at a young age, committing her to Bennington and her initial anger over that. Then he had moved even further away to join the FBI, an organisation she was deeply paranoid about, seeing her way to rarely and only keeping the contact through letters.

And just when it looked like the new meds were helping and he might get more of the wonderful woman his mother truly was back, the Alzheimers had shown up and started to destroy all that was left of her beautiful mind and personality.

The thought of losing her altogether had been devastating, but like with everything else he’d learned to adapt.

When the possibility arose to have her participate in a clinical study for a new treatment, Spencer and Dr Norman had talked to her multiple times in her clearer moments before deciding to follow her wishes and give it a try.

There was, of course, an investigation into possible side effects from the combination of meds she was taking, but the autopsy report had labelled her death as a natural, random heart failure.

That she hadn’t lived through losing more and more of her self, that they both had been spared the day she didn’t recognise him at all - it was a small mercy and solace. He had still lost his mother, the only parent he had ever felt truly close to and the grief was difficult to deal with.

At the time he hadn’t felt at all capable of sorting through her things. It had been a phone call with Hotch that had given him a solution. _Then just don’t. Pack everything up, rent some storage over here and have it all shipped over. Do it a little at a time when you feel up to it. That things need to be done doesn’t always mean they need to be done right now. And I mean it, if you need something, anything, I’m here. You can call me anytime, no matter if you need help carrying boxes or just somebody to listen to you. That’s what friends are for._

It had helped. Looking through all the things that had been his mother’s life still hurt. But setting his own pace made it easier, less overwhelming.

He could easily acknowledge that he was also holding on. He simply wasn’t quite ready yet to let her go completely and not throwing away her possessions was a not so subtle outside representation of this internal holding on.

One step at a time.

There were astonishingly many things left. When he had put her in Bennington and given up the house he grew up in, he had put everything of hers she couldn’t take with her into storage. At the time he might have had some naive hope that she might have need of them again in the future. Later he had simply never found the time or strength to sort them and get rid of the surplus. He had to do that now.

Every piece brought up memories, good and bad. Clothes she’d worn at outings while they still could do them. Books she’d read him. Little things he’d rescued during her worse episodes.

And letters. So many letters. She had kept all of them, every single one he wrote her, even the ones from when she didn’t acknowledge him in any way. They all carried the signs of having been read over and over again.

He would keep them all as well. It didn’t matter that he could remember every word he had written her. Just like it didn’t matter that he could remember every word in the letters she had sent back to him. He had kept all of those as well. They were a tangible proof of their connection through all these years.

He flipped through yet another stack back from his university days and pulled out one. The day he’d written this hadn’t been anything special but it still marked a significant decision for him.

 

_Dear Mom,_

_I am almost done incorporating what I think will be the last comments from my adviser into my thesis and I plan to hand it in by the end of the month. I received two more job offers this week and it is a little weird to be scouted like that before I am even turning sixteen._

_I am not all that sure if I really want to stick with math for the rest of my career, there is still so much else out there to learn and explore. I would not have any problems getting more scholarships and I am thinking more and more that I want to pursue another degree. I have been sitting in on lectures in various fields and one subject seems more and more interesting to me, chemistry._

_I feel like studying chemistry would give much more opportunity to apply my knowledge to concrete problems. There is so much potential in the various fields of chemistry, so many problems in our world that chemistry could find solutions for._

_I find, I quite like the idea of picking a career that truly makes a difference, that has a tangible positive effect on people’s lives. Maybe I could even help you, Mom._

_Anyway, as promised I will bring a copy of my thesis in its final form with me when I come home the next time._

_Lots of love_

_Spencer_

 

He remembered his mother’s reply, that she was proud of him, no matter what he decided to do. She had also insisted that he should pick the path that felt right for him, and that her situation was not his responsibility.

The FBI had certainly not been what she had preferred for him but even when she questioned his choices, she had never truly criticised them.

The memories brought back old doubts.

The last time he’d seriously asked himself whether or not the FBI was the best use of his talents and education was around his 30th birthday. It had been a weird twist of fate to be confronted with one prodigy who set out to save lives and two who destroyed them within days.

Back then he had come to the conclusion that his work made a big difference and that he simply felt at home among the BAU.

Right now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

So much had changed over the last months and nothing felt the same anymore. _He_ didn’t feel the same anymore.

After the death of his mother, with his only bit of biological family lost, he had needed the family of their team even more. He had let them all take care of him, a little at a time, and it had helped ease the pain of the loss.

But then that family of choice had been shaken up and eventually changed. And even with still mostly familiar faces, everything was different, just a few degrees off and Spencer wasn’t sure anymore, if this felt right, if he could make a difference like this. If he still belonged.

 

* * *

 

 

“Uncle Spencer?”

“Yes, Henry?” Spencer looked up from his lunch preparations to where his godson was putting together a jigsaw puzzle.

The little boy was contemplating the piece in his hand before he turned it around and slotted into its place in the picture. He picked up the next piece but just turned it between his fingers, not really looking where it might fit.

“How many children do people normally have?”

Spencer frowned at the odd question. Not that he didn’t know the answer, but why would an eight-year-old boy ask it?

“That differs between different cultures and has changed over time. Currently the average worldwide is for a woman to give birth to 2.5 children. In the US it’s 1.8.”

Henry looked up at him with a furrowed forehead. “How can you have two and a half children?”

“Nobody has half children, of course not.” Spencer smiled and walked over to sit beside Henry. “But averages are funny things. Let’s say a woman called Ann has two children. And then there’s her neighbour, Bella, and Bella had three children. How many children do they have together?”

“Five.”

“Very good, you’re paying attention. Now, you can’t really divide five evenly between two people. What would you do if we had five cupcakes and both of us wanted to eat the same amount?”

“Hmmm, I’d ask you very nicely and beg until you let me have three?” the boy offered cheekily and both ended up laughing.

“But they are Aunt Penny’s cupcakes and they are super yummy and I don’t want to let you have more than I get. So what could we do?”

Henry scrunched up his face, clearly unhappy that he didn’t get away with a third imaginary cupcake. “We could cut one in half so we’d each have two whole cupcakes and half of the one we cut.”

“Exactly, very good. Now, you can’t cut children in half, that would be horrible, so Ann will always have two and Bella will have three children. But the people who collect all this data and make long lists and statistics and charts from them, they cut the numbers in half or in even smaller pieces so they can assign the same number of children to every woman all over the world. Even people like Aunt Penny or Emily, who have no children, have two and a half children according to these statistics. And the mom of your friend Giselle, who just had triplets and now has eight children... for the statistics she only has two and a half children as well. That’s the weird thing about an average. It’s sort of true for a large group, but it is not true for a single person in the group. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” Henry fell quiet and absorbed the explanation. “You said in America it was a different number, not two and a half.”

“Yes, in the US every woman gives birth to 1.8 children on average.”

“That’s less than two, right?”

“Yes, it is a little less than two.”

“Then mom already has enough kids.”

“Your mom has slightly more kids than the average. I’m not sure that automatically means that she has enough. Remember your friend Giselle and her seven siblings.” Spencer let Henry think for a little while, still curious where all of this had come from in the first place. When no explanation came he decided to ask. “So, why do you want to know these things all of a sudden?”

“Last night I woke up and I was thirsty. So I went downstairs to get a glass of water, I’m too old to call Mom or Dad for something like that. They were still in the living room but they didn’t hear me. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, honestly, but when I had my glass, I had to walk slowly so it wouldn’t spill and I heard... there were a lot of kissing noises and stuff and then Dad asked ‘Do you want us to try again? Maybe we’ll get a little girl this time around. A little princess as beautiful as her mom.’ I went upstairs and back to bed, so I didn’t hear mom’s answer. Do you think they want to have more children? Why do they need more than two?”

Spencer sighed. At least Henry already knew the basics of how babies came to be, so he didn’t have to navigate that minefield. “I really can’t answer that, Henry.”

“But you know everything!”

“No, Henry, I know a lot, but nobody can know everything.” Spencer smiled fondly at the unwavering trust his godson had into his knowledge. “And I can’t know what your parents want or plan to do, unless they tell me. And if they are thinking about another baby is a very personal matter that they won’t talk to me about. But one thing I know for sure. If they’re thinking about another baby, then that isn’t because you and Michael aren’t enough in any way. If they want another baby, then it’s because they are so happy to be your parents and you two are giving them so much joy that they just want a bit more of that.”

“Hm, I guess.” Henry went back to doing his jigsaw and when he didn’t seem to talk about the subject any further, Spencer ruffled his hair and went back to fixing them lunch.

They came home from the park in the late afternoon, soaking wet from a sudden rainstorm. They changed out of their wet clothes and Henry declared movie time.

“Okay. You go and pick out a movie, I’ll make us hot chocolate. Deal?”

Of course, Henry was more than happy with their division of labour and Spencer resigned himself to watching _The Secret Life of Pets_ for the umpteenth time.

They were cuddled up on the couch with their mugs already half empty when Henry dropped the second completely unexpected question of the day into Spencer’s lap. “Why don’t you have kids?”

“Ehm, the answer to that question is a little complicated. For one, you normally start a family with two parents, not just one. You know that it doesn’t always stay that way, but that’s how it usually starts.”

“But couldn’t you find someone to start a family with? I mean, if you wanted kids, you could find someone to marry and make a baby or adopt one, right? You could ask Aunt Penny! She doesn’t have anyone either and you two are great godparents, so I’m sure you’d be awesome parents as well.” Henry was getting really excited about his perfectly logical plan. The movie was, at least for the moment, forgotten.

“Slow down, Henry, it’s not that easy. For starters, people want to be in love with one another when they get married and start a family. And while Aunt Penny and I like each other very much, we aren’t in love and wouldn’t be a good match.”

“Oh.” Henry slumped in on himself and Spencer had to control the smile that wanted to stretch over his lips at how crestfallen the little boy looked on his behalf. “But... why don’t you have somebody to be in love with? You are clever and funny and nice... I think you should have somebody in love with you.”

“Oh Henry, that’s very nice of you to say, but I guess, I just haven’t found the right person for me to fall in love with.”

“Have you been looking?”

“What do you mean?”

“You say, you haven’t found them yet. Maybe you have to go looking for them. Mom always tells me I’m not allowed to complain that I can’t find something before I have really, really looked for it. Only after that will she help me searching. So, have you been looking for someone to fall in love with? Because if you don’t search, you can’t find them.”

Henry looked at him with eager expectations but Spencer wasn’t sure how to answer that. The longer the silence lasted, the more the eagerness dulled in Henry’s eyes.

“Or don’t you want to find someone? I do that sometimes, not searching because I don’t want to find something, like my school books for doing my homework. But don’t tell mom.”

Spencer swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure just what it was Henry saw in his reaction, but the little boy had always been good at reading those around him. Henry’s face turned sad as he snuggled back under Spencer’s arm, looking at the screen again.

“I think you deserve to be happy. And I think you should have someone to be in love with. But you have to want it, I guess.”

Spencer took a deep breath and kissed the top of his godson’s head. “I’m very happy to have you in my life, Henry. And thank you for caring.”

When he was lying in bed that night he was still thinking about what Henry had asked and said.

Didn‘t he want someone to love in his life? Of course, he did. Everybody did, right?

He just had a difficult time finding the right person. Someone he could relate to and that understood him and wasn’t bored or weirded out by his quirks.

He wasn’t good in social situations, so new acquaintances often got stuck before they could turn into a proper friendship or more. He found the whole process highly stressful so he didn’t pursue it by going out or - god forbid - using a dating site.

But that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to fall in love.

He had had feelings for people over the years. At times there had even come something of it, at least a little bit.

He had been completely surprised by Lila Archer’s attraction to him but he’d been beyond flattered and found her interesting. They had kept in contact for a while, flirting back and forth - or at least he hoped his attempts had qualified as flirting - but ultimately he’d known that nothing would ever come of it. There was just too much distance between them, least of which was a continent.

He didn’t want to look too closely at his crush for Hotch. The list of reasons why the man was out of reach was long, including married (initially), fraternisation rules, age difference, Jack, superior, the fact that Hotch saw him more like a younger brother, and the minor detail that the man was as straight as they come. 

None of that had ever quite negated that Spencer found Aaron Hotchner attractive far beyond his physical appearance. And throughout their growing friendship, the crush persisted, always neatly tucked away in the back corner of his mind.

That Hotch had left the BAU after they had recaptured all the escaped serial killers had made Spencer sad, but he also understood and respected Hotch’s decision to leave, before their work could do even more damage to his family.

Maeve. Touching those memories still hurt even though the wound had closed years ago. The unfairness of them never having a chance, of Maeve being killed so pointlessly, of him losing her before he properly found her. No matter how complicated things had been for them, how limited their contact, he knew he’d found something truly special with her. Something that could have been _it_.

But he’d also gone into their relationship, whatever they had managed to be to one another, knowing the likelihood that he might never actually meet her. He’d tied his heart to a person that would potentially be never more than the penmanship of a letter and a voice on the other end of a phone line. 

It was almost ironic how similar the situation was to that with his mother, if for entirely different reasons. Maybe that’s why it hadn’t felt strange or empty to him.

He’d loved her. For all he knew about romantic love, he had loved Maeve, been in love with her.

But he also had to admit that his hope that something might become off this love was slim at the best of times.

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t deny the pattern now that he had thought through the people that had awoken his interest over the years. It was pretty obvious that he always fell for people that were out of his reach, one way or the other.

In Henry’s words that would probably qualify as only pretending to search and looking in the wrong places on purpose.

In adult words, he had been sabotaging his own love life for more than a decade.

No matter it wasn’t much to speak of.

That brought him back to Henry’s question. Did he want to be in love? Did he want to find someone?

For the longest time, his answer would have been that it wasn’t that important to him. That his work and friends filled his life out very nicely and that he wasn’t missing anything.

Now, he wasn’t so sure that was still true.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day was Sunday and found him on Emily’s overly comfortable couch with popcorn and the complete collection of Star Trek movies.

They had agreed to start with the original and work their way through, seeing how far they made it in one day and continuing the following weeks, cases permitting.

He had cuddled into her side during _The Search For Spock_ and she had wrapped her arms and the throw blanket around him without a word. That was one of the things he truly loved about Emily and had missed the most while she was with Interpol, she got him like few other people, just like Hotch did. But she was also much more open about it.

She’d slowly and carefully wormed her way into his personal space and had worn down his defences, not by ignoring or disrespecting them, but by earning his trust. 

Many described JJ as his big sister, but he rather thought that Emily fit into that slot much better. Spencer felt more comfortable and at home with Emily, no matter that he cared a lot about JJ.

JJ wanted to help him. Emily understood him and was perfectly fine accepting him as he was.

There was never any notion of romance or sexual attraction between them, which made things so wonderfully uncomplicated.

The closing credits were running over the screen when she finally spoke. “Should I put in the next or do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

He stayed silent a moment longer but she was as always happy to let him sort his thoughts.

“Do you remember the talk we had in that café in San Francisco during the Zodiac copycat case?”

She took a moment to answer. “Was that the one about living up to expectations and what Tesla had accomplished at 25?”

“Yes, that one.” He chuckled, both about her tone now and the things she said back then about her fate as a socialite.

“Are you reevaluating that question for yourself?”

“In a different way, yes, I guess.”

“Hmm.” She left it at that, waiting him out.

“Why did you come back?” he blurted out what had been puzzling him.

“I missed you guys. I still don’t know quite how it happened, but we grew into a family and even though leaving was the right decision at the time, I just kept missing all of you more and more and it made me feel lonely all the time. So I decided to come home.”

“But you took essentially a demotion. You worked so hard and lead your own team successfully. Now you’re back as one of us, doing the same job as the rest of the team. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Honestly? It was part of the appeal. I never wanted to play political games - hell, I hate politics! But the higher up you are, the more responsibility you hold, the more you have to play these games. And there is an awful amount of administrative work involved with being in charge. Seriously, I often asked myself how Hotch managed to be as much in the field and involved in actual investigations and custodials and everything else we do and still keep on top of all the administration stuff. No wonder he stayed late so often. And being a single dad that must have been difficult. 

“With all the different coordination meetings and panels and whatnot they wanted me on, all of that was even worse at Interpol. And I just came to miss the actual work. Being out there. Catching the bad guys, helping people. Making a difference. I went into law enforcement for that and I wanted it back. I’m an investigator, not an administrator, that became more and more clear and I was losing that part of me. And so I gladly came back and took back my old position as a plain, ordinary agent.” The last was said in jest and they both chuckled.

“Emily Prentiss, you couldn’t be plain or ordinary if you tried.” He fell quiet and let her words percolate a little. “Are you happy now?”

“Yes. Things aren’t perfect, they never are, but I’m much happier now and don’t regret this decision at all. Does that help with your current crisis of faith?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe.”

“Do you want me to talk to Derek?”

“No. Thanks, but no. This isn’t about Derek, not really. If my issues were just with how he runs the team I would address that with him myself or go to Cruz if our esteemed leader was stubborn.”

“But he isn’t helping, is he? I’m sorry I hadn’t noticed before. I guess I was still adjusting to being back. But you’re right and his behaviour is unprofessional. Hell, if you were a woman, he’d have accusations of misogyny thrown his way in heaps.”

“You saying I should wear a skirt to work?” He twinkled at her with mischief.

Emily laughed heartily. “No. Though I would pay good money for first row seats if you did that.”

“You and Garcia as well, I bet. But I don’t need any more weird rumours about me flowing around Quantico. People are ridiculous.”

She hummed in agreement. “ _The Voyage Home_? Or do you wanna talk some more?”

“No, I’m all talked out as far as my feelings go for now. Let’s watch the highly implausible kidnapping of two wales through time.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was only a few days later that Spencer walked into a quaint little café AD Evans had a soft spot for. Mostly because they served delicious cakes.

Spencer couldn’t say he minded. The coffee was good and he didn’t need much convincing when it came to sweets.

“Hello, John. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Spencer greeted the man casually, seeing as this was definitely not a work meeting.

“Spencer, have a seat. I already ordered your coffee. We haven’t talked like this in quite a while and with everything that has happened I thought we should.” He gave the younger man an assessing look. “How are you doing? I know you don’t like changes and you had plenty of those, some of them rather difficult.”

Spencer ran a hand through his hair and gave a smile to the waitress who put down a large mug of coffee in front of him. “It’s a mixed bag, really. Losing my mom like this... sometimes it still hasn’t registered properly and when it does, it hurts. I miss her terribly and at the same time, nothing has really changed all that much for me. It makes me feel a little guilty for how little she was a part of my life.”

“That’s part of growing up, Spencer. We raise our kids to grow into their own, find their own paths, live their own lives. Letting go is a necessity on both sides of the equation. It doesn’t mean that the love is any less, it’s just part of the process. Even if things were a little more complicated in your particular situation. It was still good that your life didn’t revolve around your mom all the time. And I’m sure she felt the same.”

“I guess, I just wish that I had more time with her. And more time where she could properly be my mom... and that makes me feel selfish.”

“I think it’s natural, Spencer. Children should be able to rely on their parents and you had that taken away from you too early. Kids also shouldn’t have to take responsibility for their parents and you had that thrust upon you. There’s nothing wrong with wishing these things had been different. Losing a parent in any way is always hard, no matter which age we are.”

Spencer didn’t really know what to answer to that. It all felt like water under the bridge. “I still write her letters almost every day. I stopped for a little while but... it just had become this way to sort through some of my thoughts about the things that happened throughout the day. I missed it. I tried doing it just as a sort of diary, but it felt awkward and so I went back to writing letters to my dead mom. Letters I can’t send. Does that sound crazy?” He looked up at John, honestly worried about the reaction he might see in his face, but all that was there was understanding.

“It’s not crazy, Spencer. It has been your routine for years and it gives you comfort, that’s a good thing. And I can’t see the difference between writing _Dear Mom_ or _Dear Diary_ on top of a page. And how many people go visit the graveyard and talk to the people they loved there or in a church? We keep them with us in our memories and how we connect to these memories is up to personal preference. I think you’re doing just fine.”

Spencer sipped his coffee for a while and tried to believe the words.

“How are you dealing with the changes on the job? I heard rumours, you know.”

Spencer closed his eyes and sighed. He really hadn’t wanted to take his current issues outside the team. Was he mad at Derek? Yes. Did he want him to get in trouble for how he treated him? No. At least not so soon after just taking over as unit chief.

“There are... growing pains I believe is a fitting term.”

“From what I’ve heard that might be an understatement. Spencer, if your new team leader prevents you from doing your job, you don’t have to accept that. Not even when he’s your friend as well.”

“I called him on it, okay. I’m not just taking it but... I’m not sure I even want to fight this battle with his preconceptions about me.”

“What are you thinking?”

Spencer took a deep breath, about to say out loud a sentence that had been slowly taking shape in his mind over the last weeks. “I’m thinking about leaving the BAU, actually the FBI all together.”

John looked at him for a long time and Spencer wished the man didn’t have one of the best poker faces he’d ever encountered. “I‘d like to say one thing as the AD before I go back to talking about this as your friend and sponsor. The FBI would hate to lose you and the bureau as a whole but especially the BAU would be poorer without you. That being said, as just John I’d like to hear the reasoning that led you to this decision.”

“It’s not quite a decision yet, just something I’m contemplating.”

“Spencer, you and I both know that this is splitting hairs. If you are contemplating it serious enough to mention, you’re not far from making the decision. So, wanna talk me through it?”

“It’s not a completely new thought. There have been times over the years when for one reason or the other I have wondered if the FBI really was the right career for me. Sometimes I’ve doubted if I was cut out for it and could handle it. Sometimes I seriously asked myself if I was utilising my talents to the max. Was I living up to expectations? My own expectations, that is. I know I’ve grown a lot in this job. It made me stronger, even if I had to go more than one hard way. And in the past, I’ve always felt satisfied knowing that I helped make a difference with the work, that I was improving the world a significant little bit.” Spencer stirred his coffee just to have something to do. It wasn’t lost on him that the swirling liquid made for a rather good representation of his thoughts recently.

“And now? What’s changed?”

“I admit that Derek is part of the problem. It makes me feel useless and while the job shouldn’t be about me, it makes everything we deal with more difficult to deal with.”

“I agree that our job should never be done as some sort of ego trip, but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t get some sort of satisfaction from it. The cops and agents that go home with nothing but frustration every single day are the ones that burn out, one way or another.”

“I’m not there yet, but I’m thinking that if the situation stayed like this for a longer time, I might.”

John just nodded in understanding.

“But, the more I think about it, I believe that the bigger issue that I feel stuck,” Spencer continued. “It’s not that I don’t learn something new with every case because there’s always something, but overall I don’t feel like I’m growing anymore, as a person or an agent. I’ve come into this job very young - many would say too young. And I still have so many years of work before me and I’m just not sure I wanna do nothing else. It feels weird that I could never settle on a specific academical field, my degrees are so widely spread, and yet I settled on a career in my early twenties and just stuck with it.”

“And if this was anybody else talking I would be offended that you are calling the life of an FBI-agent boring in a roundabout way,” John teased with a smirk. “But I get where you are coming from. You are still young Spencer, you still have so many opportunities open to you. You aren’t stuck if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“I know. But I’m not getting any younger and while my experiences have their own worth, there will come a point where I can’t just go into research or teaching in whatever field I’d like.”

“And is that what you want? Go back to a university or college? Teach spoiled millennials or spend your days in a lab?”

“I don’t know... No. What am I thinking?! I’d be bored out of my mind!”

They both laughed.

“Look, Spencer, I know you are used to having many opportunities open to you at all times. I know the amount and kind of offers you get in any given month. And if you’re worried that that number could dwindle, it’s likely to make you feel more trapped in your current situation. Do you know what you would want to do?”

“No, I haven’t gotten that far.”

“Then I think that’s what you have to figure out first. There’s little point in changing routes if you don’t know where you want to go. Make a list or something, figure out what you’re looking for. And you should probably also define what is bothering about your current situation, so you don’t end up in something similar.”

Spencer nodded and took another large gulp of his coffee.

“I’m just so stuck in the role our team dynamic has assigned me. Not just on the job, but all the time. I feel like I’ve done most of the growing I can do on the job, I spread out from the narrow focus I started with, learned a lot. And while I have also grown as a person, I feel that I’ve fallen behind on that front. Like I’m so stuck in how the people around me see me, that I stopped spreading my wings in my personal life. And that feels incredibly dissatisfying.”

“Anything particular you feel like you’re missing?” the older man pushed a little deeper.

“For starters, I’m 35 years old and haven’t had a single proper, romantic relationship in my life. If that doesn’t sound sad, I don’t know what does.”

“And how are your teammates holding you back from that? I thought they were trying to drag you out to clubs and get you to date all the time.”

“They want me to get out, have fun and ‘get laid’. As if sex was the difficult part. In their picture of me as the clueless, awkward, innocent virgin is no room for me wanting something serious. And in the beginning I didn’t want something serious, I didn’t feel ready for that. Though I was never this blushing virgin they saw in me.”

“And now you want a serious relationship?”

“I guess, yeah. Not entirely sure yet. But I’ve noticed that I attached my heart to people in the past, but always those that were not realistically in reach. Like I wanted the big feelings but not follow through with it. And I don’t know why.” He fell quiet again, trying to pinpoint not for the first time where all of this was leading him.

“Spencer,” John eventually interrupted his thoughts. “As I see it, you need to figure out, what you want out of your life, right now and for the future. And then to pick a path that will get you there. You owe it to yourself to try and be happy. Content is all nice and well, but don’t sell yourself short by not even trying for truly happy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Spencer was sitting in his favourite reading chair but the book lay forgotten in his lap. His eyes were looking out the window, not really seeing anything as he was turning his job, family, feelings and life in general over in his mind yet again.

Spencer felt ready for a change.

As much as he loved his teammates like they were family, he also felt certain that their relationships would survive if they weren’t working together anymore - at least if they were really as strong as he thought. Being among these people had long been a strong factor in staying with the BAU and it now it was losing some of its strength.

But he wasn’t willing to type up his resignation letter quite yet either and what that came down to was the lack of a goal.

He’d given all the more recent job offers sent his way an honest look and did some research beyond that. None of the options seemed to offer him the challenge he was looking for, the chance to make a true difference, or a sense of adventure.

He had reached an impasse.

Spencer was startled out of his musings by an impatient knock on his door (however a fairly simple knock could sound impatient).

Looking through his peephole the sight was a little confusing. He recognised the man in the front, even if they had never met in person. But what was an Air Force officer doing there?

“Dr McKay, I presume. To what do I owe the honour?” he greeted after opening the door.

“Dr Reid, pleasure to meet you. And I do not say that lightly or often. That one answers to Sheppard.” He gestured vaguely over his shoulder.

“Rodney,” the colonel just shook his head in exasperation and held out his hand to Spencer. “Lt. Col. John Sheppard, it’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer just gave him his customary wave. “Sorry, Colonel, I prefer not to shake hands with strangers. Would you like to come in.”

“Absolutely,” McKay barrelled forward and Sheppard followed with an apologetic half-smile. “Do I smell coffee?” came out of the Canadian’s mouth before Spencer had even closed the front door.

“Yes. I guess at this point it would be illogical to ask if you want some. Let me fetch a tray and please take a seat.”

He used the few minutes of puttering around his small kitchen to mentally brace himself for all the possible implication of the duo in his living room. Once McKay had taken the first sip of his coffee and hummed contently Spencer levelled an assessing stare at him.

“You want to tell me what this visit is all about?”

“How happy are you at your current position?”

“Rodney!”

“What?! I just want a rough idea how much effort it will take to lure him away.”

Spencer had to suppress a smile at the interaction between his two guests. It spoke of a well established and strong friendship, which was saying something considering McKay’s reputation.

“I’m actually at a point where I’m somewhat open to new propositions. So why don’t you just tell me what you have to offer?”

“Before we can do that, I’m afraid you’ll have to read and sign these.” Sheppard produced an insanely thick stack of confidentially agreement papers from a bag he’d sat down by his feet.

Spencer picked them up and read through them, quickly flipping through the pages.

“Erm, Doc, not to insult you or anything, but you should really read those properly,” John cautioned.

“I can read 20,000 words a minute and have an eidetic memory, Colonel. There is a rather unfortunate typo on page 73 and a missing comma on page 120. But beyond that,“ he set the completely read stack down on the table and got up to find his fountain pen, “this is a very thorough but essentially standard agreement.” He signed, dated and initialed on all the necessary lines and pushed the papers back to the other man. “And I’ve been keeping secrets since I was ten years old. I’m intrigued.” The last was directed at McKay who took it as the prompting it was.

“What would you say if I told you that there are other intelligent lifeforms out there, that we had access to alien technology and were using it to explore the universe?”

“I’d say it would explain why a scientist of your calibre and ambitions had practically vanished from the public stage for well over five years.”

“You look supremely unsurprised, Dr Reid,” Sheppard remarked.

“I have an ear in various circles and over the years there were rumours. Hearing them from different directions allowed me to make certain conclusions. Conclusions that I never shared with anyone.” He noticed how Sheppard’s shoulder relaxed ever so slightly. “But rumours tend to lack details. So what exactly is that project of yours and what job would you want me for?”

McKay smirked with a gleam in his eyes. “Five years ago we found Atlantis, a spaceworthy city, build by a species we call the Ancients. It’s currently floating under an invisibility shield in San Francisco Bay, but we are taking her back to Pegasus, her home galaxy. There are humans there, scattered over a large number of planets, brought there by the Ancients. But there’s also the Wraith, a horrible enemy that we need to stop or they might become a threat to earth again.”

“Again?”

“That’s why we brought the city here for the time being,” Sheppard took over the explanation. “A Wraith fleet was sent to Earth and we only just managed to destroy them in time. Better we stop them back in Pegasus.”

Spencer nodded slowly. “As exciting and important as all of that sounds, I’m neither a weapons expert nor a strategist or even a cosmologist. I’m not sure how I fit into that picture.”

“But you have a unique combination of talents,” McKay said emphatically. “You see, the Ancients were brilliant but also kind of ridiculous in many ways. That has left us with a huge database we can’t decipher or properly access.”

“Then how have you managed to live and work on that city for five years and even fly it to Earth?” Spencer was seriously puzzled.

“Manuals and individual research journals found with equipment and in specific labs, mostly. Though that came with a few nasty surprises, I’ll admit. And then there are people like Colonel Supergene over here.” He pointed at Sheppard who only made a ‘bite me’-face in answer. McKay continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

“Seems when the Ancients were on Earth, they mixed their genes into our gene pool. We all assume they simply formed relationships with humans and had offspring but nobody knows for sure. As a result there are a number of people who have traces of Ancient genes in their DNA, particularly what we call the ATA, the Ancient Technology Activation gene. Most Ancient technology only works for people with that gene and we have since developed a gene therapy to bring forward dormant expressions of it. But there are also a small number of people who have a naturally strong and active expression of this gene, Sheppard being the top of the bunch we found so far. And the way Ancient tech, especially Atlantis, responds to these gene carriers is almost obscene. They seem to have an instinctual understanding and the tech practically bows to their will. It’s annoying as all hell if you’re not one of them but it has saved our asses plenty of times.”

“Gee, thanks McKay. Tell us how you fell, why don’t you,” Sheppard quipped, but there was no real heat behind it and it sounded like an old argument.

“The point is, we’ve scraped by so far but we need the bigger picture when we want to succeed. Fighting the Wraith in a proactive way requires historical data, we could utilise the technology we’re finding way better if didn’t have to carefully guess what it’ll do and if it ever even worked as intended. It’s ridiculous how lax these people were about letting failures laying around. Energy is a constant problem that we’ve so far only solved temporarily with sheer dumb luck. And the soft scientists desperately want to know all kinds of things about the Ancient society and philosophy and what not and I’d really appreciate it if I could just throw a huge bunch of files their way and get them off my back.”

“You are aware that I have degrees in quite a few soft sciences myself, don’t you?” Spencer asked in a slightly teasing tone.

“Yeah. I’m trying to ignore that in favour of your serious PhDs, though I have to admit that your broad range his what makes you the perfect candidate for this job.”

“Which you still haven’t told me about. So what exactly do you expect me to contribute to this madhouse?”

McKay opened his mouth but Sheppard talked right over him. “To get to the point: We hope that you can crack the database. It’s not a language problem, as Ancient is fairly close to Latin and thus easy enough to learn for most of us. It’s not a problem of the coding, seeing as we have some of the most brilliant minds in that field on the city. We think what we’re missing is someone who can figure out how the heck the Ancients thought and how that translates into the structure of that database.”

“Exactly!” Rodney jumped back in. “And I have been convinced that whatever it is you do in profiling would give you an edge on that front. And we’ve tried pretty much everything else we could think of.”

“What a ringing endorsement and declaration of trust.” Spencer couldn’t help the sarcasm but he figured McKay could take it. “Does the project have a military or civilian lead?”

“Civilian leader for the overall mission but a significant military contingent and I have the last say when it comes to security and defensive measures,” Sheppard provided.

“Would you want me to stick to my lab or office or whatever or how exactly do you imagine my role on the mission?”

“We have a couple of hundred people out there and TPTB haven’t settled on how many more we are going to get, yet. Things happen. It might be petty crime compared to what you’re used to but I wouldn’t mind at all if you helped with that. I’ve been trying to get an agent afloat, but the vote is still out on that. And there are also the off planet missions. I wouldn’t want to assign you to a team as a full member, but there are missions and negotiations with locals that sure could profit from your experience as a profiler and if you’re willing, I plan to utilise those skills. At least I don’t have to worry about your ability to shoot straight under duress if things go south.”

McKay was practically vibrating in his seat. “So? What‘re you saying?”

Spencer narrowed his eyes. “Is this a now or never offer?”

“No.” Sheppard said decisively. “We’d like you to join us and our time before we’re heading back to Pegasus is limited. We do have regular contact with Earth and you could join us later but moving you into the city while it’s actually on Earth would be much easier. Also,” he looked around the many filled bookshelves, “no real packing constraints while we’re still here. But take your time to think about this. Ask any questions you feel you need answered. It’s a pretty big step.”

McKay seemed a little frustrated but nodded his agreement.

Spencer’s thoughts were chasing each other around his head while the two man got ready to leave. Alien technology. Another galaxy. Millenia old puzzles.

“I’m in.”


End file.
